


Something Sweet

by Sira



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:42:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6373384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sira/pseuds/Sira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carol thinks Daryl could do with something sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Pure fluff. Oy. And I'm not good at writing fluff. Consider it your warning. 
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Growling up at a sky that didn’t care, he couldn’t believe it was snowing. When he had left the house to work on his bike in the garage, the sun had been shining but when he looked outside not half an hour later thick snowflakes were slowly tumbling to the ground.

No one needed snow. Granted, it had been rather cold the last few days, but snow? By all means, spring should be right around the corner, so what use did they have for snow?  
Cold weather, good as it was with slowing down walkers, only meant they needed to use up more resources to stay warm, meant that going out there recruiting was even more of a hellish job. Hewouldn’t complain, but he didn’t need to like it either.

He worked for an hour more until Aaron threw him out, claiming it was his day off and he better made sure he enjoyed it. Enjoying? What was there to enjoy?

Not feeling like arguing, though, he left the garage for the house that he would never call home, surprised to find Carol on the steps to their porch, holding out her hands while she looked up at the sky.

“The hell you’re doing?” he asked. “Trying to catch a cold?”

She turned to him, an impish smile on her face. It had been so long since he’d seen this particular expression on her face and it made him stop in his tracks.

“No. Trying to catch snowflakes.”

“What for?”

There were days he thought there was no one he understood better than Carol Peletier and then there were days he wasn’t sure he knew her at all. More often than not it was the latter in the last months. When he looked into her face, he saw Carol, the woman he had been through hell and back with but when he looked at her clothes he saw nothing more than a plain housewife.

She had said they needed to keep up appearances, but he couldn’t help being afraid that one day she would embrace this image she created of herself and he’d lose the one person he couldn’t lose.

“Did you never try catching snowflakes?” she asked him now, tilting her head slightly.

“What for?”

He had. Once. He had been four or five. Excited by the first snow of the year, he had bolted out of the house, tried to catch the soft, cold flakes that melted as soon as they came in contact with his skin. Lost in his own world, he hadn’t heard Merle come up to him, calling him a pussy, shoving him roughly. His father, hearing the commotion outside had come to look what was up and Daryl could still remember every second of the beating that had followed, only because he had dared doing something his father didn’t deem manly.

Carol looked at him for a long moment before she answered.

“Snow… it’s beautiful. Snow is a reminder there’s something beautiful left in this world. I loved the moment the whole world seemed to vanish under a blanket of fresh snow. It was always so… innocent, pure. Sophia was always excited when we were lucky enough to have snow.”

Her voice had become quiet, distant as sadness clouded her earlier peaceful expression. He felt he could kick himself for reminding her of the pain of losing her daughter, and for doubting she was still the same. Of course she was. She was just adapting the best she could. He couldn’t say the same for himself.

He had to think of Carol after Terminus, when the two of them went after Beth, or rather when he had dragged her with him. She had been distant, keeping her emotions in a tight chokehold. He had seen through it, even though he’d been helpless, hadn’t known what to do to break through her defenses. Did he really want that Carol back? At least t she seemed to be doing better here. He hoped she was.

“Sorry.”

Her eyes met his.

“Don’t be. Come on inside.”

She didn’t wait for his reaction, just went up the stairs to the house, leaving the door open for him. He hesitated for a second before following her. What was the woman up to now?

Once inside the house, he could smell fresh cookies. Of course. Since they made this their – in his opinion – temporary home, it seemed this smell seemed to permanently permeate the air.

Not that there was something wrong with Carol’s cookies. He had still to meet someone who didn’t like them. Sure enough, he found the object of his musings in the kitchen, taking a cookie from her latest batch. How could she stand baking cookies, cooking day in and out?

“Here,” she said, holding out the cookie to him.

“Don’t need one.”

She rolled her eyes at him, stepping closer.

“It’s just a cookie. It doesn’t bite. I promise . And if you ask me, you could do with something sweet to counter the bitter expression on your face.”

He wasn’t bitter, was he? Only because he didn’t want to be a part of the charade, it didn’t make him bitter. Let people celebrate their stupid parties to socialize, let them have cookies, he was a realist, would be prepared when things started to fall apart. And they would, who were they trying to kid.

“Pfft. I ain’t bitter.”

“Yeah, you are.”

She took a few steps towards him, still holding out the cookie.

“Come on. I know you want it. You want something sweet.”  
Something inside him tightened at her teasing. Back at the prison, she had used to tease him more than he could stand, now she hardly ever did. So much had changed. They both had changed but underneath her hideous sweaters she still was the woman he…

He quickly let go of the thought.

She waved the cookie at him, took another step until she was well in his personal space. He knew the expression on her face. She was a predator who expected her prey to turn and chase tail. He wouldn’t. He had changed, too.

“Ya know, I might be in the mood for something sweet after all.”

She frowned at the tone of his voice but she still held up the cookie. Before he could question himself, chicken out, really, he took the cookie with one hand while leaning in, his lips covering hers. An instant shiver ran down his back at the feeling of her soft lips against his, even though they both remained motionless. He had shocked her, had shocked himself.

He stepped back, even though he wanted to prolong the moment, to kiss hdf again. This was… too much if not too soon. He was in way over his head.

“Well,...,” she began. He could see the smile tug at the corners of her lips, lips he knew to be incredible soft now.

“Thanks for the cookie,” he said, turned around, not feeling able to be around her for much longer.

“Anytime,” she said softly. “And if you need something sweet again, you know where to find me.”


End file.
